


Beyond Us

by VoyagerSoa



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Mutual Hand Holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-02-04 08:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoyagerSoa/pseuds/VoyagerSoa
Summary: Loki, in spirit of being himself, is apparently in the custody of one Sorcerer Supreme on challenge of a long list of grievances from the Avengers. Stephen wishes he wasn't but gets on with it anyway. Loki, despite being perhaps the most annoying deity to ever walk Midgard, is also handsome in ways even Stephen is forced to admit every now and again. It was a long day of working together. And long days lead to... interesting conclusions.





	Beyond Us

**Author's Note:**

> Also minor warning for breeding (it wasn't tagged as it's literally one line of dialogue). Explicit fun below. Will most likely stay a one-shot, but I have many loves of this particular setup with Loki being Stephen's "prisoner" sometime after Avengers (2018), so more is always possible elsewhere.

“For the last time, _hold still_. Do that again and I’m binding you with the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak.”

It was times such as these, sitting in the Sanctorum lounge, trying desperately not to move erstwhile the literal, actual God of Mischief had a needle thimbling through the Cloak of Levitation in an effort—of all things—to mend it instead of destroy it that had Stephen Strange most wonder about the choices in his life that brought him here.

“You? Use the Bands against me?” Stephen found a scoff. “Really, I’m just surprised. A Bayst worm has never before eaten so much a thread of the Cloak, let alone almost chomp it in two.”

“Either the worm had quite the privileged diet of mystical artifacts, or the Cloak is far more fragile than you remember, Stephen.” Loki’s words were interspersed with continued work, thumbing his needle gently in and out to sew up the rip further and further. “Even Asgardian thread kept it together only barely after the Imperator was through with it. It should be no surprise to you or I that it’s not quite the same indestructible it once was.”

“Don’t remind me,” Stephen sighed.

To whit, the fact that a Bayst worm did this should, by any other account, been a good sign—parasites hungry for magical energy in each of its faces were a convenient way to keep a pulse on the world’s mana since the restoration of the Dragon Lines. Someone like the Sorcerer Supreme knew this well. Still, a blow to pride was blow to pride and someone like the Sorcerer Supreme didn’t take on _those_ well either, much less with a trickster god hawing at your back. Stephen counted his blessings that apparently Loki was quieter than usual when doing something actually productive. If he wasn’t so insistent on him not moving, it would’ve been a good opportunity for some reading.

“There,” Loki said after a while, pulling away. “It’s done. The thread will dissolve once the Cloak has done its part healing itself.”

“Good,” Stephen said, rolling his neck. “Any longer and I’d be aching.” Admittedly, he already was. Figures.

“What shall I do for you now?” asked Loki, standing up. “Fixed your precious Cloak, helped you with the worm… suppose it’s due for you to ask me to cook for you now, isn’t it?” He was smirking. “Am I your prisoner or indentured servant, Doctor Strange?”

“You do whatever it is you want to do, Loki,” Stephen replied, too used to Loki waxing lyrical about himself to be taking the bait now. “Whether it’s helping me or hindering me. But, I thank you for applying yourself just this once. I’d hate to have to ring up someone like Wanda to fix the Cloak without a favor involved.” Leaning back in his seat, he noticed that Loki wasn’t already scampering off toward the kitchenette despite it as he normally would. This made Stephen furrow his brows. Loki wanted something else.

“What is it now?” He sounded twice as tired. Loki, meanwhile, clung to a rapidly growing grin.

Stephen felt icy fingers cup his cheek, Loki on him in an instant, whispering in a tone that bordered on sultry.

“Is it not already obvious?” A second pair brushed against his chest, eliciting a small groan. “After all, it’s hardly time for supper…”

“ _Hnh._ ” In absence of better judgment, Stephen leaned into the palm at his face. It had been another long day keeping the tenuous peace between Earth’s reality and its metaphysical—plus, for what it was worth, Loki had somehow kept his most annoying quips and general disinclination toward anything resembling behaving to a minimum today, as though he had planned for this since they woke up this morning. (It would not have surprised Stephen in the least.) “Always driving a hard bargain, trickster.”

Loki laughed. “And you an enticing reason to do so, sorcerer.”

And, suddenly, a moment of clarity: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Loki drew his head closer to Stephen’s own, dragging lips along his chin, leaving behind smears of dark, dark lipstick.

“Why not?” They were staring at each other. “Because you’re an Avenger? Because it’d be such a scandal for the Master of the Mystic Arts to be having yet _another tryst_ atop how many? Please. As though you and I don’t _enjoy_ the scandal.”

“I don’t.” In this, he was being honest. Stephen caught Loki by the wrist. “More important than the Avengers, you’re my _responsibility_ , Loki. I might not like it—and believe me, that I really do not—but it’s what I’ve got. Yes, you find it within you to be helpful every now and again. Yes, I don’t think you’re inherently evil, just a brat who doesn’t want anybody to know he does care even a little. But how can I be responsible about you doing this?”

At once, quiet. Neither Stephen nor Loki made a move, Loki’s expression darkened with consideration. Stephen was about to let him go, and then—

“You don’t need to be.” Loki nuzzled his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Stephen’s first instinct was to retort that he couldn’t unless he wanted the entire force of SHIELD coming down on him in an instant, but he didn’t. He stayed silent. Then, gradually, gingerly, brought Loki’s hand to his mouth, which he kissed.

“You make me regret this,” Stephen said, “And I really will imprison you in the Negative Zone.”

Despite it, they both laughed—and soon after, were making out. Loki on Stephen’s lap, pushing further and deeper into Stephen’s lips than he had ever before; Stephen, arms wrapped around the small of Loki’s back and pulling him in. They kissed and kissed and kissed until Stephen’s lips were blue and Loki’s teeming with warmth. Then they paused, pulled back, and did it all over again.

“I have a surprise for you,” said Loki, between their embrace, rubbing his forehead against Stephen’s own.

“You do?” Stephen was almost breathless. “And it isn’t a surprise that you’re planning to conquer the planet? Do tell…”

Loki spied him a look, and when Stephen’s vision cleared, they were in the bedroom, Loki lying askew in a full set of green garter and lingerie. “I do.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t help himself but rub his eyes just the way. “I believe you.”

Loki beckoned him on and Stephen felt drawn to him like moth to a flame. They were on each other just as quickly as before—now, a whole trickster god beneath him as wandering hands both found what they were looking for. It felt so hazy and blurry that Stephen doubted whatever was about to happen would be remembered in the morning, but he didn’t care. He had a handsome bastard in front of him dolled up in the best (and, we assure you, most revealing) lingerie he had ever laid eyes on. Everything was permitted after that.

“Gods.” Loki was just as into it as he was. “Keep touching me.”

Stephen didn’t need to have a syllable repeated. He put both his hands down on Loki’s chest, chasing his curves until he reached his hips, circling in finger by finger until he had one hooked under his liner and the next teasing at his core. The moan he curtailed from Loki almost sent him wild. Were anyone watching his tights, they were being pushed apart by quite the kingly bulge. Focused on earning more of that so-sweet moaning, Stephen continued, rubbing him until that made the both of them. He had the awareness to notice how Loki’s legs were rapidly spreading.

“Mmm!” Loki cloyed around his neck. “Such skill. Always know how to— _hah_ —keep toe and toe with the excitement, don’t you, Strange?”

“You make it rewarding.”

“Don’t I.” There was another flash, and then, all Stephen was feeling below the waist was a sudden updraft.

“Loki—you _disintegrated my pants_?”

“Why not?” Loki’s grin was toothy and mildly alarming. “Won’t be needing it where we’re going, will we?”

“Hmpth.” Stephen snapped a finger and returned the favor—with the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. Loki yelped, taken by surprise, but seemed not at all angry for it. Of course, as with everything, he was into it. (Stephen would wonder if there was anything Loki **wasn’t** into, but this was neither the time nor the place.)

“Afraid I’m going somewhere?” Loki was giggling. “When we were doing so well?”

“Shush.” Stephen had a hand over his mouth, the other squarely centered around Loki’s nethers, poking and prodding until finally ripping that ever-so lovely lingerie away. If Loki could afford to abracadabra his tights into nothing, Stephen was sure he wouldn’t be weeping crocodile tears about this getting ripped. If anything, the tricky bastard preferred it that way. As expected, Loki’s grin had gone approximately nowhere against Stephen’s palm. Miraculously, he said nothing, apparently respecting Stephen’s wishes just this once.

“Look at you.” Stephen slipped his index into Loki’s hole. “Slick. Were you getting ready for me earlier…?”

Loki, best as he could with the Crimson Bands wrapped around him, shrugged.

Stephen rolled his eyes and partnered the insertion with his ring finger, getting another—albeit now muffled—moan from Loki. He worked slowly at first, rocking them in and out. It felt briefly odd to know that Loki had without a doubt planned this since who-knows-when, but how could he let it bother him now? Loki was being himself. Stephen didn’t exactly need to ever have been a full-time Avenger (and never would be, Vishanti willing) to have been long since keyed into the trickster god’s, ahem, lurid ways. Least of all when he was friendly enough with Tony Stark to have heard stories about it. And now here they were, on his bed, getting ready to have at it.

May you live in interesting times, his ass.

“If you were so keen on it,” Stephen growled into Loki’s ear, “Then, well, congratulations.” He slipped his fingers out and before he could even suck in another breath, bucked inside.

The Bands vanished, for as useful as they were, Stephen no longer cared enough to lavish them with the concentration necessary for upkeep; all his thoughts now centered on Loki, who was every bit as loud and obnoxious during sex as he was any other time, which was to say that Stephen was suddenly very much glad that no sound ever could escape the Sanctorum and out into the rest of Greenwich Village, lest the entire borough know what was afore the rest of the planet.

As for how he felt, well, here was a word: incredible.

“Vishanti,” Stephen swore. “So… so tight!” He was pinning Loki to the bed now, having thrown the latter’s legs over his shoulders and down his back to get a better angle as he pistoned into him with wild abandon, each and every thrust eliciting some kind of impact. Loki, for his part, would have surely said something if he could get past his own moans, which he wasn’t. His legs tied around Stephen’s neck apparently spoke enough for his tastes.

A voice at the back of the Sorcerer Supreme’s mind, mild and tiny, had to have been disappointed in him. Having sex with _Loki?_ His prisoner—the sole reason the whole of the Avengers existed at all? And to not only have sex with him, but to enjoy it better than any sex he’d had in years? What was he, some sort of Neanderthal to have caved so easily to such obvious seduction? But now we reached our point, as Stephen kept his pace and rocked into Loki though his life depended on it, and listen as closely as you can bear…

…he just didn’t give a damn.

He wanted it. Loki wanted it. And Stephen, for his flaws, was more than willing to deliver. He pressed Loki, train of thought less than even the most peachy of pleasure quagmires. The God of Mischief seemed to be having a go too, what with the veracity of his cries and how his hips just so happened to move on their own in tandem to Stephen’s frantic, frenzied pace.

“You’re beautiful,” Stephen muttered into Loki’s ear. “Even more with me inside you.”

Loki managed words, finally. “Is that… _ngh…_ so? You do put in quite the argument.” His giggle was addled by a fresh gasp as Stephen pulled himself loose just to slam back inside, digging himself into Loki as far as his length would go. Bottoming out in him was an experience he wasn’t soon to forget, against earlier expectation. Their hands at last found each other and clung to one another as if it would be their last word.

Loki was a thorn in his side, but Stephen couldn’t have asked for a better one. He kept pounding into him, somehow finding the means to plunge in faster and deeper still. Pinning him down like this felt right. Perhaps he deluded himself into believing this was in some fashion teaching Loki a lesson not to seduce him unless he wanted to be fucked half alive stuck in the tightest mating press, like that would lead Loki to do anything different but to try for this, and this exactly, even more often. The red-hot pleasure pounding through Stephen’s eardrums and radiating through his chest made that the two of them.

“Harder,” Loki demanded, crying out. “Harder!”

“Damn it, Loki,” he hissed. “Such a… pain in my ass…”

“Do it!” Loki’s voice was ringing in his ears. “Come inside me, sorcerer! I know you want to… _hah!_ I know you want to breed me!”

“Bastard!” Stephen was given no choice between how tightly Loki’s legs were secured around his shoulders or the sudden, consuming need to do as asked rushing down to his length like white fire. “You better—you better take it all!” His yell was punctuated by a heavy groan, throbbing cock at last pumping every last drop into the trickster’s waiting hole. Twitching spasms subsiding only after what felt to be a century, Stephen slumped over, drawing sloppy kisses into Loki’s collarbone.

“You really know how to work a man, don’t you?” He knew the answer to his question as soon as he asked it, slowly pulling out with requisite gasp for breath. “Twinks. Why do I expect anything less…”

Loki, similarly hawking for breath, merely laughed. “Did I hear that right? The esoteric and ever cryptic Stephen Strange knows what a _twink_ is? Me oh my. You really are becoming modern after all, Strange. Dogs and cats will be brothers in arms by tomorrow.”

Stephen shook his head. Back to business as usual, despite the fact he had just dumped the entire content of his balls into him not a moment before. Typical. “You learn a thing or two having enough talks with Stark. Did you know he’s still sulking since the last time you turned him down?”

“Of course he is. He’s a man chasing after an addiction he can’t get anywhere else, scarce as he is to admit such a thing. I swear he’d write love letters expressly detailed for my female self if he could. All the more reason to deny him. His ego is far less annoying when frustrated and pining.”

Stephen snorted. “Fancy you to be the one talking about egos.”

“I speak the truth, don’t I?”

“Quiet. Keep talking like that and I’ll find it within me to do that again, this time with you in a ballgag.”

He anticipated Loki’s sneer. “Hah! When you couldn’t keep up the Bands? What gag would hold me then?”

“I’d find something around the Sanctorum. This **is** a very big house, Loki. I’ve almost lost track of it all myself. Now where did you put my pants?”

Loki stared. Stephen blinked.

“You… seriously just disintegrated them?”

“To the great beyond, I’m afraid.”

Stephen stood, swearing again. “Godsdammit, Loki! Unlike you who can pull on a set of clothes from nothing, those were my uniform’s tights! They’re special made!” He stormed off, still thoroughly naked from the waist down. Loki’s laughing was long behind him.

“Never get between a hero and his spandex, I suppose.” He could almost feel the wink on his back. “Be seeing you tomorrow, Stephen.”


End file.
